


Bedroom

by sati_lotus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sati_lotus/pseuds/sati_lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the sentient asteroid House has deleted all the bedrooms, all her things will be lost to him forever.  Then what will the Doctor do?  Set immediately after ‘The Doctor’s Wife’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedroom

**Bedroom**

 

**Summary:** If the sentient asteroid House has deleted all the bedrooms, all her things will be lost to him forever.  Then what will the Doctor do?  Set immediately after ‘The Doctor’s Wife’.

**Rating:**   G

**Pairing:**   Doctor/ Rose

**Warnings:**   None, just a lot of angst.

**Disclaimer:** All the characters belong to the BBC.  Only the plot is mine.

 

...

 

“The House deleted all the bedrooms,” said the Doctor when several wires beside him sparked again, and he looked over at them.  “I should make you two a new bedroom. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”  
 _Seeing as we sleep and you never seem to, that would be a great idea_ , Rory thought wryly, baffled as to why the Doctor even had to ask such a silly question.  He leaned over to Amy and whispered: “Tell him to get rid of the bloody bunk beds.”  The Doctor was more likely to listen to her.   
“Good point,” she whispered back.  To the Doctor she said, “Doctor, this time could we lose the bunk beds?”

Rory looked at him dubiously, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy close her eyes, apparently expecting an argument as well.    
“Nah, bunk beds are cool,” the Doctor protested, obviously surprised by their request.  “A bed with a ladder!  You can't beat that.” 

When Rory pressed his hand against his forehead in exasperation, the Doctor grudgingly relented.

“It's your room,” he said, sounding almost sullen.  “Up those stairs, keep walking till you find it.”  He turned back to the wires.  “Off you pop.”  
Just as they started up the steps, Rory stopped and leaned over the rail, looking down at the Doctor, curious.

“Doctor, do **you** have a room?”

The Doctor adjusted his goggles and Amy grabbed Rory’s arm, dragging him away quickly.

Glancing back, Rory wasn’t sure if the Doctor hadn’t heard him, or if he **had** heard him and purposely hadn’t answered him.

 

...

 

The Doctor hears him.  When in the TARDIS, there wasn’t much he didn’t hear, and Rory had been standing right beside him, after all.

But it is not a question he answers.  Not anymore. 

 

They **always** ask; he has no idea why knowing where his bedroom is located is so important to humans.  Funny little creatures. 

He hadn’t said anything to Martha, just distracted her with a gadget that shrunk food.  He’d been fortunate that she’d never asked again.  Donna had asked and he’d made a noncommittal noise, fiddled with the console, and she hadn’t pressed.  Just demanded to know where they were going to next.  He hadn’t told Amy when she’d pestered him (over and over) as was her habit when she wanted to know something, eventually getting the hint after he repeatedly changed the topic.

 

It’s his TARDIS.  Naturally, the Doctor has a bedroom.    

 

He just doesn’t sleep in there anymore, hasn’t even entered it in, well, years now.  Doesn’t want to.  Whenever he is tired enough to sleep, he sleeps in someone else’s room.  **She** doesn’t use it anymore and never will again.

 

Before that hateful day (he still can’t think about it without flinching), the Doctor had never slept in her room, but now he finds it soothing.  Sleeping in her room helps him remember that (fantastic) part of his life. 

 

_“I should take you home to see your mum,” he says, pulling a lever.  He has no desire to see Jackie, but whatever she loves, he will tolerate.  “It’s been awhile since you saw her.”_

_“Home is with you,” she says.  Utterly matter of fact._

_He looks up, smiling brightly at her, once again marvelling how completely happy she makes him._

 

He doesn’t actually sleep on the bed.  He doesn’t want to disturb it; wants it left exactly as it was. 

_“I see you made your bed again.”  Whenever he teases her about it, she grins with her tongue poking out the corner._

_“Oh, shut it.  I’m only going to sleep in it again, so why bother?”  She lightly socks his arm and he pretends it hurts.  “Now where are we going?  Can we go to that place you were telling me about where the flowers can talk?”_

 

Instead, the Doctor sits on the floor, leaning against the side of her bed, untroubled by the rather uncomfortable sleeping position.  He only takes one of her pillows to hold, gripping it tightly against his chest, burying his face in it.  

 

It’s a pink pillow, of course.  Her favourite colour.  She’d thumped him soundly on the head once with it, though admittedly, he probably deserved it. 

 

_She’s still asleep and he’s impatient to get going, somewhere, anywhere, so he bounds into her bedroom, bounces on her bed._

_“Wake up, lazybones!”_

_She shrieks, bolting upright in shock.  She squints at him and he grins back at her, pleased with her reaction._

_“You woke me up.”  Indignantly, “I was sleeping!”_

_“And now you’re not!” he declares gleefully.  “Where do you want to go today?”_

_She blinks a few times and smiles slowly._

_“Do you know what I do to people that wake me up?”  She sounds so sweet and innocent.  He eyes her warily._

_“No.”  His smile fades a little.  “What?”_

_Her pillow smacks him in the face._

_“That!”  She cackles with laughter, blonde hair falling around her face.  A bit stunned, he lies there, blinking._

_After a moment, he sits up, a wicked grin spreading over his face.  “Well, do you know what I do to people who hit me with their pillow?”_

_She stops laughing abruptly and eyes him as warily as he’d just eyed her.  She sees his fingers twitch and knows what he’s going to do._

_“Oh, don’t you dare!”  But her eyes sparkle._

_“Oh, I dare.”  He lunges, tickles her mercilessly, and they roll around the bed playfully.  She squeals, wriggles madly as she tries to escape, and he laughs._

_He tickles her until she gasps for breath and laughingly begs him to stop.  When he does, she whacks him on the head with her pillow again._

 

Occasionally, he’ll let himself pretend it’s her when he’s holding the pillow.  Even after all this time, the material still smells like her.  But despite the (many) stupid things he does, he’s no fool.  He knows that the sweet scent of her will deteriorate.

 

He’s a Time Lord, born to live on and on throughout time.  He’s well aware that the memories of her, his love for her, will become more distant each day as he grows older.  Cruel as it is, the Doctor knows that time can make love fade.  Humans say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.  But it can also make it forget.  He has seen it in others, over and over and over again. 

 

While he’ll never forget her entirely, the knowledge that his love for her will gradually disappear is more terrifying than anything he can imagine.  It is something the Doctor cannot stop.  It is inevitable and he wants to delay it for as long as possible. 

 

That is why he sleeps in her room, clutching a pink pillow that smells like her.

 

...

 

Under his feet there is another spark, followed by a popping sound, and the lights flicker.  He stops his delighted twirling around the console.  Sighing, he goes to investigate. 

“What now, Old Girl?” he mutters affectionately.  He pulls out his sonic screwdriver, scanning to find the latest problem. 

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the gleaming metal beside him and pauses to study it. 

 

_“Even if I change...  It feels like dying.  Everything I am, dies.  Some new man goes sauntering away, and... I'm dead.”_

 

Ultimately, he doesn’t really mourn the regeneration.  Despite the self-pity at the time, the Doctor is as selfish as any other mortal; he doesn’t want to die and he knows deep down he **is** still the same man.  He’s looking forward to whatever adventures lie ahead of him.  He wonders how his future is entwined with River Song’s.  He delights in watching Amy and Rory’s love grow.

 

Actually, he’s a bit envious of them.

 

He closes his eyes and thinks of the other universe.  He thinks of the duplicate Doctor.  A man who shares his memories.  A man who shares his mannerisms.  A man with his face, though it is not **his** face anymore.  The duplicate Doctor who gets to spend his one life growing old with her. 

 

His chest feels tight with jealousy.  Or perhaps it’s pain because his last words to her were a lie.

 

_The Doctor in the blue suit whispers the precious words in her ear.  He knows what is being said because he wants so badly (more than anything) to be the one to say it to her.  Instead all he got was the disappointment in her beautiful eyes as he lied to her._

_When she finally hears the truth, she grabs the other man, kisses him fiercely, and he wraps his arms around her in return, pulling her close as he kisses her back._

_He turns, unable to watch or speak, and walks quickly back to the TARDIS.  It’s the last time he sees her._

_Just because I let you go, he thinks bitterly, doesn’t mean I wanted to._

 

The Doctor with one heart gets the adventure that he can never have and he gets it with her.  For her sake, he hopes their life together is long and filled with joy.  He opens his eyes and continues looking for the problem with the TARDIS. 

 

...

 

If the House **has** deleted her bedroom, all her things will be truly gone.  Completely lost to him.  Forever.  And forever is endless.  His hands begin to shake.  He isn’t sure what he’ll do if it’s all taken from him.  Technically, he could reconstruct the room, but it would...

 

_“I'm still just an image.  No touch.”_

 

Holding his breath, his hearts pounding, the Doctor goes to look.

 

END


End file.
